The Silence of Prophecy
by Aelia O'Hession
Summary: Dark times have arrived and many are fearful. But there are those who will fight. One young woman must face her past to free herself from a terrible future. Is there anyone willing to save her? Her hope lies in a family of redheads. Not DH compatible.
1. Taking In

**Silence of Prophecy**

**Disclaimer: **All things Harry Potter do not belong to me; they belong to that brilliant woman known as J.K Rowling. May she continue to have wonderful success with her enterprise of Harry Potter. The only thing that belongs to me is the main character and part of the plot. A part of this plot is based on _Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince,_ not much, just a few little things

Enjoy!

**Chapter 1: Taking In**

Through a rain swept night, a small figure made its way through the treacherous forest paths. More than once, the cloak of the figure caught on wayward branches ripping the cloak and revealing a tattered skirt. Her feet were bruised and bloody because she had no shoes to protect them. A pale hand clutched at her hood to keep the rain off her head while the other hand clutched at a small pack.

For more days than she could remember, she had wandered lost in these wild forests. Her pace was both cautious and resolute. Her stomach growled loudly at her, reminding her that she could not afford another night without some sort of supper. Through a break in the looming trees, she saw the warm glow of lights. Her heart leapt at the possibility of food and hospitality. With newfound determination, she made her way towards the light.

When she broke through the trees, she was overwhelmed by what she saw. Before her stood a grand stone castle surrounded by immense grounds. Her eyes swept the grounds, taking in everything that was there. Faintly she could hear the sound of a large group of people gathered for what she hoped was a meal. After wandering about the grounds trying to find the entrance, she came upon a set of large old oak doors. Not caring if these doors were the ones she was looking for or not, she began to pull them open which were proving rather difficult in her weakened condition. At long last, she managed to crack them open just wide enough so she could ease her small frame through.

She stumbled on her cloak and reeled for a moment. After catching her balance, she gazed at her new surroundings. She was in a large foyer that had many passages and stairways attached to it. She traced a circle deosil around the foyer, trying to locate the source of the voices and the new intoxicating smell of food. . Deciding that the voices were coming from above her, she climbed a set of stairs until she got to a landing that opened into another foyer with another set of oak doors. Now she was certain that the sounds and smell of delicious food was coming from behind the doors.

These oak doors swung open to reveal a long hall filled with students dressed in black robes gathered around dinner tables. The mere sight of all the food made the young woman's stomach growl again and her dry mouth water. At the far end of the hall was a table filled with professors dressed in a myriad of different robes. An elderly man at the head table stood to see who had wandered in.

"Welcome, stranger. Can we assist you with something?"

The young woman looked at this elderly man. Carefully she made her way down the center isle avoiding the stares and whispers of the students. Lifting her skirt and cloak so she would not trip and embarrass herself further, she climbed the few steps to the head table. Once there she drew parchment and quill from her pack and began to write:

_ I have traveled far and seek food and shelter. _

The elderly man looked at the small figure standing before him with a quill in her shaking hand.

"Do you not speak?" he asked gently.

_I am unable to,_ she wrote. _A curse was put on me when I was very young. _She studied the face of the elderly man in front of her. His face was wizened and kind, with twinkling eyes behind half moon glasses.

While she was studying him, the elderly man was studying her. Beneath the hood of the cloak he saw a pale face with eyes as green as the sea and waves of honey colored hair. There were dark circles under her eyes telling him that she had not slept properly in many days.

"Come," with a wave of his hand he drew up a chair between him and the stern looking woman seated beside him. "Eat as much as you wish. We will discuss everything in my office after you have had a proper meal."

She nodded her thanks and moved around the table to the seat. From under the hood she glanced around nervously.

"There, there, dear," the woman in deep green robes said to her. There's nothing to worry about."

Carefully, the young woman lowered her hood and she regarded the woman who had just spoken to her. "I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House. My charges are the students wearing the gold and scarlet ties," she pointed to one of the tables filled with chattering students. While Professor McGonagall loaded the silent woman's plate with food, she said, "The man seated beside you is the Headmaster of this school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His name is Professor Albus Dumbledore. Come now, eat up."

The meal was a blur to the exhausted woman. She knew that a great many delicious tastes danced in her mouth and nourished her empty belly, but she could not, for the life of her, remember what she ate. By the end she was sufficiently stuffed and was now being led to the office of Professor Dumbledore. Once there, she found herself surrounded by little silver objects that whirred and flashed images.

"Curious little things, aren't they?" Dumbledore asked. She nodded her head. "Please, sit," he said, gesturing to a chair. "Now, what is you name?"

_Lyneth O'Mara_ she wrote on the bit of parchment.

"Lyneth, what a pretty name." She smiled at Dumbledore. "Where are you from Lyneth?"

_Galway, Ireland_ she wrote again.

"What of your parents?"

A look of sadness passed across her face. With her hands she began to make fast signs, telling Dumbledore that there had been an attack on her village and her family was killed. A tear slipped down her cheek as she told the tale. The wizened man patted her arm. "Don't fret. There are many who have suffered like you in these dark times." He stood and began to pace about the room. "I'll have Minerva set you up in the Gryffindor Tower tonight." He paused for a moment, studying Lyneth. "Have you had any teaching in magic?"

With a slight movement of her hand, Lyneth transformed Dumbledore's robes into a Renaissance ball gown. Her mouth opened in a silent laugh when she saw the look of surprise cross Dumbledore's face.

"Ah, there is a sense of humor there. I'll send some owls tonight seeing if there is a family that would be willing to house you until you have "found your feet" as it were."

Lyneth nodded her thanks as Minerva came to lead her to the Gryffindor Tower. "You'll be quite safe there. Hermione Granger has agreed to help you around Hogwarts while you're here." Professor McGonagall led her through various stone passage ways and stairs that by the time Lyneth reached the Gryffindor Tower, she was rightly confused.

"Raven feather," McGonagall muttered at the portrait before them. To Lyneth's astonishment the portrait of a Fat Lady said, "Good evening, Professor," and swung open to admit them. In a warm and inviting common room there were three students sitting by the fireplace.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, this is Lyneth. She will be staying with you until Dumbledore finds a family for her." She turned to Lyneth. "Don't be afraid dear," she said kindly. "Have a good night now." McGonagall turned and left the Tower, leaving Lyneth to the three students.

"Is it true you can't talk?" the red-headed boy burst out.

"Ron," the girl snapped, giving Ron a jab in the side. "Mind yourself."

Warily, Lyneth smiled nervously at the three. Turing her gaze to Hermione she made signs that said, _May I go sleep? I am very tired. _

Hermione studied the signs for a moment.

"I believe she'd like to go to bed," Harry helped. Lyneth nodded her head emphatically.

Hermione rose and gently took Lyneth by the arm, pretending not to notice that the older girl flinched at the touch. "Come, I'll get you settled. We'll talk more over breakfast. Night, boys."

The bed that Hermione showed to Lyneth was more than she had ever dreamed. She was used to a simple wooden bed frame with practical bed covers. The bed Hermione showed Lyneth was extravagant compared to that; canopy, thick comforter, crisp linens, and fluffy pillows.

"I'm in the bed next to you if you need anything during the night." After receiving a nod from Lyneth, Hermione went about getting herself ready for bed. While she was dressing, she felt a timid tap on her shoulder. Lyneth was standing there, questions swirling about in her sea green eyes. She made motions of washing at Hermione, trying to indicate that she would like to bathe before going to bed. "A washroom, right. Follow me."

It was a whole new experience for Hermione trying to meet the needs of someone who could not verbally convey them. It made her realize that she would have to be more mindful of everyday needs. 'I wonder what the poor girl has been through' Hermione mused.

As soon as the sun had crested the hills around Hogwarts, Lyneth was up and about. As was her custom, she did her morning blessing to the sun followed by some deep meditation. Once done, she donned a simple white chemise and a deep maroon skirt with a pattern of black vines. Grabbing her pack, she headed down to the Common Room to wait for Hermione.

A little while later, a yawning Hermione, Ron and Harry all joined Lyneth in the Common room. They found the silent woman curled by the fire with a book, not even noticing the movement around her.

"Lyneth," Hermione said. "We have to get to Defense Against the Dar k Arts class. Care to come?"

Lyneth marked her spot in the book, put it in her pack and went over to Hermione. She made a sign for food. 

"We'll eat after class."

"But," Ron sputtered.

"If we eat now, we'll be late and get detention from Snape. DO you really want that?"

Both Ron and Harry muttered no, and so the four were on their way. Along the way, Hermione spouted facts about Hogwarts that Harry and Ron had heard a dozen times before, but Hermione kept on it, claiming that Lyneth should know. Once they arrived at the classroom, they took their seats. Moments later, a man Hermione identified to Lyneth as Professor Snape, whisked into the room.

"Class," he began to drawl until he spotted Lyneth. She was rather easy to spot because of her lack of robes and school uniform. "And you are…?" he inquired.

"Her name is Lyneth O'Mara," Hermione piped up. Snape shot her a chilling look.

"Did I ask you the question?"

"Sir, she can't speak," Hermione protested.

In annoyance, Lyneth slammed her hands down on the wooden desk calling for attention. Furiously she made signs indicating to Snape that she could most certainly not utter a single sound. To demonstrate further she "spoke"; more like moving her mouth as though she was, but no sound came forth.

Before anymore animosity could occur in the class, Professor McGonagall came in. "Lyneth, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office. If you would come with me dear."

She gathered her things and followed Professor McGonagall out of the classroom, all the while giving Snape a malevolent glare.

"Licorice Snaps," McGonagall muttered. A few dizzying moments later, Lyneth found herself back in Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, my dear child. I have found a place for you. The Weasley family is more than happy to take you in." Lyneth looked at Dumbledore with a little hint of skepticism. She had seen how Ron behaved. "Don't let Ron fool you. I'm sure you'll find them to be quite wonderful once you have stayed there for a while. Mrs. Weasley should be here shortly."

He dismissed Lyneth so she could gather her few possessions. With apprehension she waited in Dumbledore's office for the arrival of Mrs. Weasley. She could only wonder what her life would be like now.


	2. A Different World

**Silence of Prophecy**

**A/N: **My deepest gratitude goes to the few that have reviewed. I am forever in your debt. I just hope that you will continue your support and convince others to do the same.

**Chapter 2: A Different World **

Lyneth's anticipation was building as she paced about Dumbledore's study waiting for Mrs. Weasley. Every once and a while her face contorted into a silent scream of frustration. Since the attack on her village, her entire life had been turned upside down and Lyneth no longer knew what to expect. Even all of this magic was too much for her. Sure, there had been magic in her life, but it was nothing like this silly waving of wands and practically screaming these silly incantations. The thing she had done with Dumbledore's robes was a simple traveler's trick for the pubs.

A scraping sound coming from the hearth made her spin around in surprise. Standing before her, dusting herself off from soot, was a plump red-haired woman dressed in an assortment of brightly colored clothes. Lyneth blinked at the fireplace for a few moments, trying to puzzle out just how the woman had appeared.

"Oh, hello dear. You must be Lyneth."

Lyneth nodded, still confused beyond anything.

"Don't fret dear. I'm Molly Weasley." She watched as some relief spread across Lyneth's features. "Do you have everything that you need?" Lyneth gave a slight nod. "Well then, let's be off." Mrs. Weasley took Lyneth's shaking hand and led her to the hearth. "No need to be frightened dear." She took a handful of powder and said, "The Burrow!"

Immediately, Lyneth was seized by a nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was swirled round and round; she felt trapped in a spiral dance at one of her village festivals. Then suddenly she was roughly deposited on a hard wooden surface.

Mrs. Weasley stood and offered a hand to Lyneth. "Welcome to home sweet home, the Burrow." She swept a hand around the house. It was bustling with bits of everything scattered everywhere. There was so much color and disorganization. She slumped into one of the many kitchen chairs, overwhelmed by everything. But despite it all, she had a feeling as though she had just come home.

"Come dear, I'll set you up in Ginny's room. She said she wouldn't mind." Mrs. Weasley led Lyneth up a spiraling staircase and into a small room that now held two beds. "Just settle in dear. I'll be downstairs getting supper ready for Arthur and the boys." Lyneth gave a small nod of understanding before she turned to unpack her few belongings.

Some time later, Lyneth began her own small exploration of the house. On the varied top floors there were various bedrooms that had once belonged to children that had grown and gone. From what Lyneth had learned from Ron, he had some older brothers that were rarely home anymore due to both work and the war. As she wandered down to the kitchen, Lyneth wondered what it was like to live in a world where there was magic all around you at every moment of the day.

Watching Mrs. Weasley running about the kitchen, Lyneth remembered a conversation that she had with Ron one night in the Common Room. She had nearly fallen out of her chair in the Common Room of Gryffindor Tower to learn that Wizarding folk did nearly all their chores by magic. To Lyneth, who had spent all of her life bruising her knees scrubbing floors, it was an idea unheard of. But here was Mrs. Weasley, waving her wand about, muttering various charms and incantations making various things happen about her.

Hesitantly, Lyneth tapped Mrs. Weasley on the shoulder. She whirled around, her face covered in flour. "Oh, dearie. You scared me for a moment there." She watched as Lyneth made motions with her hands. "You want to help?" Lyneth nodded enthusiastically. "Mmmm…can you make a decent loaf of bread? Bread's always been my downfall."

Without giving a reply, Lyneth seized the dough that was in Mrs. Weasley's hands. She put it on the floured countertop and began to knead it. While it sat in a bowl to rise a little bit, she wrote to Mrs. Weasley.

_Cooking I can do. This whole magic thing I'm not so sure of. _

Mrs. Weasley looked at Lyneth. "You can't do magic?"

Lyneth shook her head making her waves of honey hair shake. _The magic I can do is different from what you do. My magic has nothing to do with waving wands around._ She closed her eyes and concentrated. In her outstretched palm grew a ball of flame. She rotated her hand and the ball transformed into a flat pane of blazing fire. With a flick of her wrist, the flame was gone.

"I think I understand what you mean." Mrs. Weasley studied Lyneth closely. "You must have what we call "Elemental Magic" because you can work with the raw forms. But by another turn, you can produce some of the most powerful enchantments because so few know how they work."

_I never knew that magic like yours existed. The only magic I've ever known are the Druids that do that fire trick and vast other things. They know how to gaze into a bowl of water and see the future. But we don't have anything like the spells you just performed to make supper. To me, this is a whole new world that I never knew existed._

Mrs. Weasley gave Lyneth a kind smile. "You'll become more comfortable with it as time goes by. Tonight, the family is over for supper. They'll be curious about you. Answer only the questions that you feel comfortable answering." She paused for a moment and her eyes swept over Lyneth's appearance. Waving a hand at her she said, "Go clean up. A servant girl appearance won't be any good."

Knowing better than to disobey the matriarch of a large family, Lyneth scurried off to do as she was bid. She cleaned herself up and pulled on a simple short-sleeved top and skirt. There was nothing special about her appearance. Looking in the mirror, Lyneth only saw a common house girl. She felt doomed to be a spinster, working as a servant all her life, never to keep a family of her own. Never the less, she smoothed the front of her skirt and walked back down to the kitchen.

At the foot of the stairs, Lyneth stopped dead in her tracks. Before her was the most familiar sight she had seen so far. The entire Weasley family, minus Ron and Ginny was assembled at the table. The sight was familiar to Lyneth because it reminded her of all the clans that she had known growing up in Galway.

"There you are dear," Mrs. Weasley called. "Come, don't be a stranger at our table." She firmly took Lyneth's hand and led her to a seat between two of the boys. Looking to her left and right, Lyneth could have sworn she was seated between mirrors.

"'Lo there, I'm Fred." The young man offered a hand to Lyneth.

"I'm his twin brother, George," said the other one, also offering a hand.

Lyneth blinked in confusion while she shook both hands. From a pocket in her skirt, she withdrew a piece of parchment and a pencil. _I'm Lyneth_ she wrote to the twins.

"So Ron was right? You really can't speak?"

"Fred!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Mind your manners. She's a long term guest in our home."

"You are very fortunate zat Molly 'az let you live here," an almost too pretty woman said.

"That's Fleur, Bill's fiancée," George kindly pointed out. "Meat?" he asked, offering the platter. Lyneth nodded and let George pile food on her plate. "You look like a starved scarecrow. We best fill you up right." As the meal went on, George pointed out all of his family members and talked a little bit about them. When he deemed it appropriate, Fred would interject with some comment that would make her laugh her strange silent laugh.

As the entire family got some food in them, they became more daring with the questions they asked of Lyneth.

Between mouthfuls of bread, Bill asked, "So…Mum says that you don't do our kind of magic. Are you a Squib?"

Lyneth shook her head so violently that some of her honey waves smacked George in the face. On the parchment that George read off of, she had written: _My magic is different than yours. Your mum says that I have what you know as 'Elemental magic'. I've just never seen magic done with all of this waving of wands._

Mr. Weasley was the next one to pose a question. "Were you once able to speak?"

_Only when I was very young._ While she wrote, Lyneth gave a small shudder as she remembered that dark day. _I was 4 summers old when the curse was put on me._

"What kind of curse was it?" Mr. Weasley continued.

_Legend speaks of an ancient Druidic prophecy that uses this curse. It was put on me by a draíodóir crún – dark druid. My family has always served the Light. There are those who would see the Druidic community fall under your Dark Lord. _ There was a gasp as George read what Lyneth had written. Fear of the Dark Lord ran high these days because of what had happened in the Department of Mysteries last year.

"What was the curse?" Fred asked impatiently.

With a shaking hand, Lyneth wrote: _Dorchadas glac ó sibh / Formhór luachmhar féirín / Fulaingíodh sí an filleadh dar trí / Deisigh an scoilt._

George looked at the parchment and then back at Lyneth who was whiter than the tablecloth. "There is no possible way that I can read this. Can you give me a translation?"

Lyneth nodded at George, grateful that he had willingly offered to read what she wrote so that all could know. Under the Gaelic version of the curse she wrote: _Darkness take from thee / A most precious gift / Suffer the fold of three / To mend the rift. _

As soon as George read it, Lyneth was overcome with fright and memories that she bolted from the table and dashed out into the garden. She ran far into the night air, not caring to see where she was going. They were sure to loathe her now and cast her from their home. She could hear Mrs. Weasley calling her name, but she could not bring herself to turn back.

Dashing through the forest behind the Burrow, Lyneth freely cried tears of anger and frustration. The one chance she had at having some sort of family for a while and she had blown it. Once again she was adrift in her own life without anywhere to turn to. Her foot caught on a tree root and she went reeling. Before she tumbled over the hidden cliff, a strong hand reached out and pulled her back. She spun around to face her rescuer. In the milky moonlight she glared at the tall figure in front of her, still grasping her arm firmly.

"It's me, George," the tall shadow said soothingly. "I'm not letting go until you've calmed down and agree to come back to the house with me."

Frustrated at the way Fate was playing with her, Lyneth wrenched her arm out of George's grasp and began to furiously pace. She muttered to herself, though no sounds came out of her mouth. Why couldn't things be simple? Blessed Goddess, why must the past haunt her so?

"Just come back," George said in the middle of her silent ranting. "Everyone's worried about you. You shouldn't be running off like that in times like these." He sighed at Lyneth's resolute form illuminated in the milky glow of the moon through the trees. She was such a stubborn woman for being haunted so. But he did not care one bit about that. He just wanted to see her safe. "You don't need to explain anything. Just come home."

There was something in that last phrase that tugged at Lyneth. Come home. She repeated the phrase over and over in her head. Home. Wiping the stubborn tears from her cheeks, Lyneth turned back to face George. She faintly nodded her head and took the hand that George offered.

Maybe it was time she stopped running and actually made a life for herself.


	3. Unsettled

**Silence of Prophecy **

**Chapter 3: Unsettled **

As they made their way back to the Burrow, Lyneth gripped George's hand as though it was her only link to the mortal world. She was a bit withdrawn, walking a pace or two behind George. Mentally she was berating herself for behaving so foolishly. Seeing George's form illuminated those few paces before her in the trees did not help her too much either. He was a constant reminder that she had to go back and face what had happened.

George took notice of her silence which seemed deeper than was normal, not that he had much to go by. Though she could not speak, George could sense that if she could speak, she would be a bit talkative and animated. But, he amended, not in that annoying way of some of the younger Hogwarts girls. He pictured her as one of the intelligent talkers; the ones that would sit beside Hermione and talk up something fierce. He immediately pushed those thoughts from his mind. 'She's a guest of the family. Just try for friendship here George, nothing more' he told himself.

By the broomshed they paused. "You ready to go back in?" he gently asked. He saw her nod slightly in the moonlight. "They're not that bad. Things are just rough right now. Give them some time." George tugged at her hand, bringing her towards the house.

Once they entered, Lyneth gave a curt nod to the family still assembled at the supper table. The remaining meal was sitting on the table, cold and untouched. Possessed by embarrassment and fear, she ran up to Ginny's room. She flung open the door and let it slam shut behind her as she flung herself on the bed. Gathering up the blankets in her fists, she heaved silent sobs of frustration.

A gentle knock resonated on the old wooden door. "Dearie, I've brought you some of the dessert pie." There was a pause as Mrs. Weasley collected her thoughts. "I'm terribly sorry about what happened tonight." She made a noise as though she was going to say something more, but she held her silence. Before she turned to go, she took a long look at the door, wondering what it would take to make Lyneth feel comfortable with the family.

Once Lyneth knew that Mrs. Weasley had abandoned her post outside of the bedroom door, Lyneth silently crept out. Instead of going down the stairs to the living room, she made her way up the flight of winding stairs, past the various bedrooms and out onto the rooftop. Leaning against the chimney, Lyneth let the cool night air caress her skin.

Sitting up on that roof, Lyneth felt free and unfettered by the terrible times that she had borne witness to in her years. Life in her village had been hard, but it was the sort of life that she adored. Hard work put her mind at ease when she could not talk about the things that were bothering her. Performing chores by way of magic seemed like cheating.

The Weasley house reminded her strongly of her own little cottage home. While she sat on that rooftop, Lyneth allowed herself to think about her family that had been unreasonably stolen from her in a single brutal act of violence. Long ago she had come to accept her silence, but accepting that her parents were dead was something that she refused to believe, despite having witnessed their deaths first hand.

Finally calming some of the unsettled emotions of this first night, Lyneth quietly crept back into the house and prepared for bed. She slipped off her shirt and skirt, leaving only the long chemise to sleep in. Tucking herself into a protective cocoon of blankets, her thoughts began to turn towards more constructive things, rather than unsettling memories. Tomorrow she would take the time to ask Mrs. Weasley what would be required of her to earn her keep. The last thing she thought of was the kind smile of George as he reassured her that his family meant no harm.

Once morning came, and drenched the room with a healing glow, Lyneth dressed in the same clothes as the day before, since she only had the two outfits in her possession. Most of her few belongings had been burned in the village attack, leaving her with very little that was serviceable for running away. After pulling her honey waves into a long plait, she began her typical morning routine.

Wandering down to the kitchen, she saw that the rest of the family had not yet risen from their slumber. While unsure of the number of people that would actually be staying for breakfast, Lyneth put herself to the task of cooking. Seized by the desire for working music, Lyneth passed a hand over a dust covered harp, charming it to play music. Gentle waves of soothing yet invigorating music filled the morning as she worked.

"Dearie, what are you doing?"

Mrs. Weasley's voice broke through Lyneth's concentration, making her spin about to face the house matron. Lyneth gestured to the table laden with breakfast in reply.

"Lyneth, darling, you're a guest. There's no need for you to work like a servant."

Lyneth adamantly stamped her foot on the hardwood floor. Pulling out her customary parchment and pencil, Lyneth wrote: _I wish to earn my keep. Forbid me as you may, I will continue to work for my keep._

Mrs. Weasley sighs is defeat. "If you must…But listen to this one thing: there is no need for you to work day and night. You are family now, so you are entitled to have fun."

George then walks in, rubbing his eyes and attempting to smooth down his hair. "What's all the fuss, Mum?"

"It's nothing, dear. Lyneth's made breakfast. Go reward her hard work by eating some of it." As George headed for a place at the table she called after him, "Save some for the rest of the family!" She turns her attention back to the young woman standing by the sink. "Go join him; you deserve to eat some of what you've made before it's all gone."

Lyneth scurries off to the table, not wanting to cross Mrs. Weasley this early in the morning. She slips in beside George, and pulls the plate of scones towards herself. George eyes the table in disbelief. "You made all of this? Without magic?"

Lyneth nods in confirmation.

"You really weren't kidding, were you?" He piles his plate high, suddenly recognizing the real work it took to cook all the food he consumed on a daily basis. The pair of young people eat in companionable silence, not wishing to disturb the rest of the household. After a time, George asks, "Are you feeling a bit better?"

_I'm still unsettled, but I'm coming to accept this situation. It's going to take some time, but I'm sure I'll settle in soon. _

"I'd like to take you to the Alley today, if that's all right. Mum said you could do with some new clothes, so I've been ordered to take you shopping."

Lyneth gave George a strange look. _Clothes shopping? _

George has to keep himself from laughing. "You've never been clothes shopping?"

_I've been to markets where I've bought a few special pieces, but I mainly make all of my clothes._ She gestures to the simple garb she currently wears.

"Then you are in for an adventure."


End file.
